


I like being by you

by grilledtrees



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Anxiety, Fake Character Death, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Maybe A Happy Ending idk, Non-Explicit Sex, Not really religious, POV Second Person, Rambling, Religious Guilt, Second Chances, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, chainshipping - Freeform, vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grilledtrees/pseuds/grilledtrees
Summary: Adam feels so guilty.Or maybe he doesn't. It's hard to tell.What are feelings, anyway?





	I like being by you

**Author's Note:**

> hey
> 
> ive been thinking abt the boys again

 

If there was a time when you didn't vaguely feel guilt for what you did, you didn't know it. Catholic school taught you to be the best kind of person you can be for God, but you- you really were never enough, were you?

Albeit, you were better than those who tormented you. You were better than the bruises that littered your body. At least, that's what you thought. You usually prayed before bedtime and what good did that do? What kind of God would do this to a kid? That's what made you so bitter.

So when you were 13, you begged your mom to stop going. To change to a public school. Maybe they'd treat you better.

They did. 

They didn't litter your body, though sometimes there were words. 

Then you were 15 in high school, and you started smoking. You kissed both boys and girls. You also had light pink marks from--

You had renounced God a long time ago, but the teachings were still embedded in your head. It made you anxious. Everything you were doing was wrong- you knew it-

Maybe that's why when you woke up in a bathtub, scared out of your mind, your first thought was, 'Fuck. Should've believed in God'.

You see a man on the ground, chained. You say some words about kidney. You don't know. You're freaking out. 

You pretend to not know this man. After all, you don't! Not really, anyway.

You find out his name is Lawrence. 

* * *

 You want to vomit. The wound hurts- it hurts so much. Now Lawrence was gone, and the dead man in the room is rotting. Lawrence is gone. 

He won't come back, so you unchain yourself. You're slightly angry at John, because all he had to do was lay there. You get up and stumble out, and there's John waiting for you and Lawrence is passed out on the ground. 

"Adam."

You stare at Lawrence's wound. It takes your mind off your own. 

"You did good," John says. You swallow your bitterness. You always do that around John. You feel kind of guilty. Then you don't.

Because it means you survived and they were too weak to. Lawrence was different. He was strong.

Or was he just smart?

Regardless, you picked him up. Well tried to anyway. It was mostly you dragging him to John's lair. Or whatever it was. You weren't really sure what to call it. You didn't care enough to ask.

* * *

 

He hates you. You don't blame him.

You were supposed to be his ally. (Or rather, for the time being, his friend.)

He ignores you every chance he gets. John stresses the importance of teamwork. 

After all, you're both survivors. 

You sit outside, taking out a cigarette. Lawrence joins you. 

"I trusted you."

It stings a little, surprisingly. "Boo-fucking-hoo," You say.

It's better this way. You know John and his games. 

"You shot me, anyway." Lawrence looks away. Hypocrite. Or are you the hypocrite? 

"I had to."

"Well, so did I." 

And he gets up and leaves. You hardly blame him. 

* * *

You two get closer. Not really in terms of friendship- but almost like you're coworkers. 

You two are survivors. That's what the media says. Are you really a survivor, though?

Lawrence divorced his wife. What was her name anyway? You don't bother to remember. You two aren't friends. 

"I gave you a second chance at life, Adam, so why are you still smoking?," John asks. 

You shrug. "Habit."

Addiction. 

It goes unsaid, but John and you both know. 

If he were to kill you, you wouldn't blame him. He goes back inside. You, however-

You get up and go for a walk. Going outside is weird now. Because you're a "victim".

Are you? 

You aren't sure anymore. 

* * *

You stomp out your cigarette. Lawrence is sitting next to you. 

You tell him about when you first met John. It's not terribly exciting.

"I don't hate you." 

It startles you. It vaguely makes you want to vomit. Forgiveness-

was always somehow worse than hatred.

You think it means they're stronger than you. 

"You should. I ruined your life."

"No. I ruined my own life."

You get up to leave. Everything feels too close. 

* * *

 

You can't breathe. 

Your eyes are watering. Where even  _are_ you?

You feel just like you did when you were young. It's not a good feeling. 

You need a cigarette. You need it. 

Something to calm you down. You're crying. 

You don't notice Lawrence. He tries to calm you down. 

You're making a scene. You know it. It makes everything worse. 

He tells you to take a deep breath. He leads you to a secluded spot. 

In and out. 

It repeats in your head. 

When it's over, you feel so embarrassed. You know better. You apologize for the commotion. 

"It's fine."

It really isn't. It's a weakness.

* * *

 

He knows you're weak.

You approach him. 

"Are you going to tell John what happened?" He gives you a look. 

"Why would I?" It's an honest question. It makes you angry. You know he's just waiting for the opportunity. You would tell John. 

"Don't play stupid, Larry." It's a sarcastic nickname. He nearly looks somewhat amused. 

"I really won't." You grab his shirt collar. He isn't fazed.

"Some of us, we're not bad people. We just do bad things," is all Lawrence says before he gently pushes you away.

* * *

You aren't religious. But sometimes, you wonder if God is real, why he would let you- 

you out of all people live?

You weren't really an outstanding citizen. 

You're at a bar. You aren't really drunk-

but you really want to hurt someone- something- 

(mostly yourself.)

So you start a fight. 

Naturally, you lose. It feels good.

It feels good to feel something other than the guilt.

* * *

 

When Lawrence sees you with a busted lip, he says nothing. 

He grabs your face, though, and applies Neosporin to it.

It's a gentle gesture. 

You hate it. 

"I don't like you, Larry."

"That's fine. What would John think if he saw that lip?"

You glare at him. 

He simply smiles. 

* * *

When John dies, you don't mourn. 

You think that Lawrence does, though. You can tell he's grown attached to John. 

Stockholm syndrome at its finest. 

You wonder if Lawrence would mourn like that if it were you. 

The thought startles you. You push it to the back of your mind. 

Repress and forget. 

John was really the only thing keeping you two together, so you expect that Lawrence will move on with his life. 

Something in your chest kind of hurts.

* * *

You have a job. 

You still have nightmares, but they're manageable now. You think. 

And just like you thought, Lawrence moved on with his life. You don't talk to him anymore. 

He gave you his number before leaving. You think it's best to leave that relationship behind.

With both of the people you were closest to gone,

you decided it's time for you to move on too. 

You still smoke, though. Habit. 

* * *

 You wake up in a cold sweat. 

That nightmare again. You get up and peel off your shirt. 

You put on another and go outside. Your apartment is shitty. It has shitty people. 

You feel at home. 

You walk. You don't stop walking until you reach John's old hideout. 

You never did ask John what to call it. Too late. You walk inside. 

It's still shitty and dank. Not even the good kind. 

You find yourself missing Lawrence. At least you could complain to him. 

* * *

You're at the grocery store when he sees you.

"Adam!"

He looks so pleased to see you. Like you two had been friends for years.

"Hey, Larry." It's all you can muster. 

"How have you been? Walk with me," He says. He's confident. It's only been a few months. You wish you were more like him.

"I've been fine." You mean to make an excuse to leave, but for some reason, you walk with him.

"Yeah? The bags under your eyes say otherwise." He laughs. You don't admit to yourself but you did miss his company. 

You wave him off and say, "What about you? How've you been?"

"Well, honestly, not bad. I did find myself hoping you would have called, though."

You roll your eyes. "Larry- Don't guilt trip me."

He smiles sheepishly. He rubs the back of his neck, "sorry."

This feels natural. You feel your stomach churn. 

Something makes you upset, but you can't quite put your finger on it. 

"I've gotta go."

* * *

 You see Lawrence a few more times that month. You say it's coincidence. 

It's not. Sorta. 

You hate him for being kind to you. 

Do you actually hate him?

You want to find out his motivation for being kind to you. There has to be a reason. Right?

* * *

You call him and ask him to meet. 

He agrees. 

When you see him, you're annoyed. His stupid smile makes you upset. 

"Hey Adam," He greets. So casual. 

"Cut the crap, Lawrence. Why are you being nice to me? Huh? Pity me or something?," You start. Your tongue is on fire.

You  _have_ to talk. "Are you, like, attracted to me or something? 'Cause last time someone was this nice to me, they wanted to use me." 

And they did.

You want to stop. You need to stop. He's quiet. Looking all patient and shit.

It pisses you off even more.

"Are you? Or do you get off on fucking- fucking whatever you're doing to me!"

"Well, guess what Larry! I don't need your fucking sympathy or your pity or your little crush on me going any further!"

"You're projecting." 

That freezes you. What?

"What?" 

Lawrence smiles a little, "you're projecting."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He doesn't say anything else. 

* * *

 Fuck. 

Fuck Lawrence. 

You kick a rock. 

Fuck the shitty feeling. 

You hate him for being right. 

You hate him for knowing before you did. 

You hate yourself even more for getting attached. For having feelings.

You take out a cigarette.

"Fuck this," you say, lighting it. 

You look down at your phone. You send him a text. 

You wonder if John knew too. 

You wonder if you were the last to know. 

* * *

 "Adam," Lawrence smiles. 

"Shut up."

He does. He waits for you to continue.

"I'm gonna move somewhere far away. I probably only like you because you were in the same position as me. So... Yeah."

You watch his smile disappear. 

"Why?"

His voice is small. It makes you uncomfortable.

"Because I don't actually like you! Also, you're straight, so it doesn't matter either way. I'm just so- so mad at myself! I'm the last to know,

and not only that- it's on  _you_ out of all people."

He looks at you. 

"You're only nice to me because you want something right? Well name it. Name it and you and I-," you start.

"Adam," He cuts you off.

"I like you."

* * *

 It repeats in your head. 

How could he like you? 

You hurt him. Even if he forgives you, 

it just isn't enough. 

"Go seek help for Stockholm syndrome," you say. It's harsh. 

You need him to realize he doesn't like you.

"Adam."

"I'm serious! You don't like me- you don't even know me!"

"Adam, I'd like to get to know you."

"Lawrence, I'm fucking serious! I hurt you! You could've died!"

Your eyes are watering and it hurts to breathe. How do you breathe anyway?

It's hard. 

"It wasn't your fault," he says.

You want to scream. It is your fault. That's what they always said. 

'Oh, Adam. It's really your fault for being too weak'.

'If you really want us to stop, fight back'.

Are you still the weak one? After all this?  

"Lawrence, please, listen to me, I'm not good. I-"

"Can I kiss you?"

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?," Lawrence repeats. 

"Are you even listening to me?"

"If you don't want me to, fine, say no. But I want you to know I care about you."

Your heart is pounding.

You need to say no. 

But he's smiling at you. 

You want to say no so, so badly.

He leans in. He's blurry. 

You're crying. 

"You can say no any time you want, Adam. I'll only kiss you if you tell me yes. Not maybe. Just yes. I'll leave you alone, I promise. Just tell me to stop or say no, okay?"

His voice is so gentle. 

"No," your voice cracks. 

He nods. He looks defeated.

"But give me a hug instead, please," you whisper. Once he wraps his arms around you, you're sobbing.

"I'm sorry- I'm so sorry, Lawrence," it comes out nasally and you want to feel disgusted with yourself. Lawrence rubs your back. 

"It's fine."

He takes you to your shitty apartment, where you fall asleep. 

You won't remember him tucking you in.

* * *

 You don't think how you two met anymore. It's been so long. 

A year? Two? Who knows? You don't. And to be honest, you don't find yourself caring.

You don't bother counting the days together. You still resent him for being right, though. 

Shit.

You really like him.

* * *

 He's gentle.

It's not something you're used to.

But you like it. 

You like him kissing you. Even if sometimes you feel like you don't deserve it.

Something in the back of your head is scolding you for even allowing this. That you'll burn in hell or something. 

You figure if hell is real, it beats being in heaven where it's boring. 

You wonder if John knew this would happen, too. 

You hate him for hurting you both. What a bitch. 

You look out the window, and it's snowing. He's warm. You're warm.

He gently grabs your face. You look up at him. His face is flushed. You wonder if yours is too.

You grab his face and kiss him. 

It feels weird. His scruff kind of hurts. You enjoy knowing it's him, though. 

"Adam." It's soft and hushed. He kisses your neck. It tickles. 

"Larry." He laughs at the nickname. 

You laugh too. It's intimate. His forehead is pushed against yours. 

He looks happy. Tired. But happy.

You wonder what he thinks of how you look right now. 

You crack a grin and kiss the tip of his nose. 

He lays next to you after a while. 

"Sorry, Lawrence."

"For 'hurting' me again?"

"No, well, yes but I ate the last bagel bite."

"Adam are you serious?" He grabs a pillow and smacks you.

You think, 

if there was a way to talk to your past self, you'd maybe tell him it turns out not that awful.

You also figure you'd tell him to not start smoking or not get kidnapped. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> idk i came up with this on my walk home from school
> 
> can u tell the end is rushed bc i got tired and my back hurt hehe


End file.
